Whiteboard

401 6 0
                                    

A marker in her hand, and a frown on her face; she set to work. Phrase after phrase, insult after insult, she wrote her feelings about herself on the classrooms whiteboard in front of her tear covered face. She got frustrated as the board was soon covered in things she believed as true. She hated this, but she didn't know why she continued. Words began overlapping, barely anything legible. The marker slipped from her fingers and she fell to the floor. Why me, she thought as she held her face to her knees, tears cascading down her legs. A knock came from the classroom door, but she'd never even dare to look up. She knew she was invisible, most of the time. "Invisible," she though, that one was written up above her on the board. "Hello," an unsure voice muttered from the door way. A sob slipped from her mouth and she heard them walk away. "Worthless," she thought, oh, that one was written multiple times, right beside "unwanted," and "ignored," why me, she thought.

Short StoriesWhere stories live. Discover now